


Finding Finn

by writingwritingwriting



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: But find something more, College, F/F, Investigaytive journalism, Mystery, Slow Burn, They're looking for Finn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 08:36:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingwritingwriting/pseuds/writingwritingwriting
Summary: Nobody wrongs Clarke Griffin. At least, that's what Lexa Woods discovers when Clarke wants her to find Finn Collins, a two-timing asshole who's suddenly disappeared from campus.or Journalism major Lexa Woods dips her toes into the world of investigative journalism.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. (Sorry!)

Lexa Woods thinks her luck is finally changing.

Through some kind of miracle she has somehow managed to nab a great apartment close to Polis University. It’s a quaint little two story house that had been converted into apartments long ago. Two apartments to be exact – one upper, one lower.

Sure, it’s an older place. Outside the paint peels, while inside the walls are still covered in lead-based paint. None of this matters; however, because the apartment itself is sitting on some prime real estate. Not only can Lexa see Polis University’s campus from her window, but Tower Hall – the building where most of her journalism classes are held – is literally a four minute walk away.

Not bad, right?

Well, it must’ve been a two-for-one miracle deal, because somehow Lexa has managed to land the apartment at a discounted price. No pleading, no negotiations. The landlord just straight up gave her a price cut, said she was doing him a favor by moving in so late in the semester. Apparently the previous tenant – some “punk-ass frat boy with dumb hair” – just up and left a week earlier.

But maybe her luck wasn’t changing at all.

See, the strangest thing has been happening.

Ever since she moved in, a (not unattractive) blonde has been stopping by the apartment. She never knocks at the door, there’s no idle chit chat. No, every day around noon the blonde stops at the apartment, drops a letter in the mailbox, and then raises her hand to – get this – flip the bird. Every day. Rain or shine. A letter and middle finger salute.

At first Lexa was appalled. And maybe even a little threatened. But by the third day, Lexa deduced that both the letters and rude gesture are not meant for her.

See, the letters themselves are … interesting. The first letter was simple. Lexa had opened the mailbox to find a ripped piece of notebook paper with the word “Asshole” scrawled in big loopy letters. The subsequent letters have been a little more robust. Take for example yesterday’s message. Same torn piece of notebook paper, same loopy letters, but this time a joke: “Knock knock. Who’s there? You’re a dick.”

Clearly these letters are not meant for her. But now Lexa wonders if perhaps the blonde is the reason why the previous tenant left, the reason why rent is so cheap. Well, whatever the reason, Lexa is about to find out.

Today.

At least that's what she hopes as she sits on her apartment porch steps, waiting for the blonde. It's just before noon and Lexa has cleared her schedule, ready to confront the woman with at least three of the Five Ws she learned in Journalism 101: who, what, and why.

And like clockwork, the blonde arrives.

Lexa watches from her seat on the porch steps as the blonde crosses the street and turns the corner, jogging the last steps to the apartment (and Lexa). She already clutches today's letter in her hand and promptly drops it in the mailbox. Lexa doesn't say anything, and it's not until the blonde begins raising her middle finger that their eyes meet.

And wow. From this distance Lexa confirms that this strange, somewhat rude blonde is indeed very pretty. She's all blonde hair and blue eyes with some very nice … assets.

They take each other in for a beat, size each other up. Lexa puts on a playful smirk before saying, “So you're the one leaving aggressive messages in my mailbox.”

It's meant as a playful little joke, but the blonde is anything but playful. Lexa watches as a parade of emotions crosses the blonde’s face, going from surprise to confusion before settling on anger.

“So you're Finn’s latest conquest?” the blonde spits, crossing her arms.

And just like that, Lexa’s playful smirk falls from her lips. She sputters on her next words, but it's too late because suddenly the blonde is walking toward her. Well, more like stomping toward her. And Lexa has to stand so as not to be run over by the woman.

“Let me guess,” the blonde continues, her piercing blue eyes boring into Lexa's green ones. “Finn fed you some bullshit pickup line? Like how someone must've taken the stars out of the sky and put them in your eyes.”

The blonde is so close, Lexa can practically count the barely there freckles on her face. They stare at each other, the blonde’s chest rising and falling with each angry breath. The blonde opens her mouth to say something more…

And then Lexa laughs.

“Was Finn a poet and he didn't even know it?” Lexa asks through her giggles. “I'm sorry, but who would fall for such a cheesy pickup line?”

Oops, wrong question. The blonde looks affronted as she crosses her arms and huffs out an angry breath.

“Oh,” Lexa realizes. “You did.”

“Fuck you. It's how he said it,” the blonde snaps.

Another beat and the two women are left staring at each other again. Lexa isn't scared or even mad. Clearly the blonde has the wrong girl. At this point she's just intrigued by the odd situation.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot here,” Lexa says. She straightens her back and squares her shoulders, pointing to herself. “I'm Lexa. Who the hell is Finn?”

The blonde blinks, the color suddenly draining from her face.

“Finn Collins?” the blonde squeaks out. Her words are less confident now. “Brown hair. Brown eyes. A dopey look on his face. He lives here.”

Oh. Finn Collins. He must've been the previous tenant. The “punk-ass frat boy” the landlord had told her about. Or the “douche canoe” as her upstairs neighbors, John and Emori, had referred to him.

“I'm sorry…” Lexa starts.

“Clarke,” the blonde supplies. “Clarke Griffin.”

“I'm sorry, Clarke. I'm afraid Finn no longer lives here.”

“Fuck.”

Lexa doesn't really know what to do or say. Pretty girls in distress is her weakness, and the way Clarke now worries her bottom lip between her teeth is making her stomach all swoopy.

“So what does today’s letter say?” Lexa asks, needing a distraction.

“Huh?”

Lexa points at the mailbox. “The letters you’ve been leaving in my mailbox. What does today’s say?”

“Oh, shit,” Clarke sputters, all the color draining from her face once more.

“Don’t worry about it, Clarke. You have a real way with words. I think my favorite was…” Lexa taps at her chin, pauses for dramatic effect. Then: “You’re the dickiest dick that ever dicked.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, Lexa,” Clarke gasps. She’s so pale at this point; she almost looks like one of those cartoon ghosts. “Those words weren’t meant for you. Obviously. They were for Finn.”

“Doesn’t seem like Finn was the most well-liked guy around here.”

Clarke snorts. “That’s putting it nicely.”

“Maybe it’s none of my business, but what exactly was the plan here? With the letters. And the middle fingers.”

Clarke flushes again. “It’s a long story. I should probably just go.”

“I’ve got time,” Lexa blurts. Part of her actually wants to hear the story. And the other part doesn’t want to say goodbye to Clarke quite yet. “I’m a good listener. Plus I’ve got coffee.”

///

So, Clarke wasn’t kidding. It was a long story, one filled with broken friendships, betrayal and heartbreak. You know, the typical college experience. In a nutshell: Clarke met Finn at a party. There was drinking. There were pickup lines. There was (regrettable) sex. Raven, Clarke’s roommate, found out. Well, unbeknownst to Clarke, Finn had hooked up with Raven at a party the weekend before. So now Raven thinks Clarke put a “bro” before a “ho” and they’re no longer on speaking terms. And oh, yeah – Finn seems to have vanished into thin air.

“So this is Finn,” Clarke says, handing Lexa her phone. “We were at a toga party at Bellamy Blake’s, that’s why we’re dressed like that.”

On the screen is a picture of Clarke and Finn from the party. They’re both dressed in bed sheets, but only one (Clarke) is pulling the look off.  Finn has his arm slung around Clarke. His brown eyes are half lidded and his “dumb” hair sticks to his sweaty face.

Lexa’s first thought:  John and Emori were right.

“So why exactly are you looking for Finn?” Lexa asks, handing Clarke her phone. “Him being gone seems like the best possible outcome here, no?”

Clarke shakes her head. “He’s an asshole and a coward … And I want to beat the shit out of him.”

Ah, the ol’ blood must have blood concept. Lexa gets it. Clarke is angry, that much is obvious. But beneath the anger, beneath the brave front, Lexa can see a sadness as well.

And oh shit. A pretty girl in distress. There’s no stopping it now.

“Maybe I can help?”

The words are up and out of Lexa’s mouth before she can stop them.

Clarke looks up in surprise. “You want to help me? Why?”

"Because, I…” Lexa begins. Now that she thinks about it, she realizes this is probably a bad idea. Clarke is a literal stranger, a stranger who admitted to wanting to pummel some dude. But the way Clarke brightens at the mere offer of help sends Lexa barreling full steam ahead, doubt be damned. “Because I’m a journalism major and I’ve got some connections. Maybe I can help get the word out?”

"Are you going to put, like, an ad in the school newspaper or something?” Clarke asks, a mischievous glint to her eye. “Because I hate to break it to you, but no one reads that.”

"Ha. Ha,” Lexa says, rolling her eyes. “Just you wait, Clarke Griffin. My skills will impress you.”

“Hmm… So, when do we start?”

“How about right now?” Lexa asks, pulling a notebook and pencil from a nearby desk. “Are you ready to find Finn?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Love it? Hate it? Let me know!
> 
> (Just a note: I'm out of town for the next two weeks, so next update will be slow)


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